The city grew quieter the farther we traveled from the safe zones.
No screams. No human voices. Just the wind moving through broken buildings and the distant creak of twisted metal. Shadow glided along the ground beside me, half-melted into my shadow, his presence a constant reassurance.
Then the ground shook.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the street ahead—slow, deliberate, powerful.
I stopped and raised a fist. Shadow froze instantly.
From between two collapsed buildings emerged a group of hulking green figures. These weren't goblins. Their bodies were massive, muscles layered thick beneath scarred skin. Crude iron armor clung to their torsos, and their weapons—axes, cleavers, and spiked clubs—were stained dark with old blood.
Orcs.
At least eight of them.
Grunts, judging by their posture and lack of coordination. Dangerous, but manageable.
Then something else stepped forward.
The air itself seemed to grow heavier as the final figure emerged from behind them.
Twice my height. Broad enough to block the street. Blackened armor etched with crude runes covered his body, and in his hands rested a massive greataxe that looked capable of cleaving a car in half. His tusks were capped with metal, and a scar ran straight across one glowing eye.
An orc warlord.
The system reacted instantly.
I felt it then—not fear.
Excitement.
My blood stirred, humming beneath my skin, responding to the overwhelming pressure rolling off the warlord. This wasn't a hunt anymore.
This was a test.
I licked my lips slowly.
"Shadow," I whispered, my eyes locked on the towering figure. "Grunts first. The big one… he's mine."
The warlord snarled, lifting his axe and slamming it into the pavement. The sound cracked the street, sending dust and debris into the air.
The grunts roared and charged.
And I stepped forward to meet them, my smile widening.
Let's see how much stronger I've really become.
The orcs came fast.
Too fast for humans—clumsy for monsters.
The first grunt raised his axe overhead with a roar. I stepped inside the swing, steel flashing. My iron sword carved across his exposed throat, hot blood spraying across my arm as his body collapsed at my feet.
No hesitation.
Another grunt lunged from the side. Shadow erupted from the ground beneath him, jaws clamping onto the orc's calf. Bone crunched. The grunt screamed—briefly—before I drove my blade through his eye.
Two down.
The others adapted quickly, spreading out, circling. One slammed his club into my ribs. Pain exploded through my side, knocking the breath from my lungs as I skidded across broken pavement.
My HP dipped.
And something inside me snapped.
Wrath surged.
The third grunt charged, blade thrusting forward—and this time I didn't dodge.
I let it stab me.
Steel pierced my shoulder.
Pain flooded my senses.
And I smiled.
"Bloodlust Strike."
The world sharpened.
My heart thundered as crimson energy wrapped around my sword. I twisted my body, ignoring the blade lodged in me, and swung.
The slash tore straight through the grunt's chest, carving him nearly in half. Blood sprayed in a wide arc, and I felt it—strength pouring back into me, my wounds knitting faster, my vision burning red.
Shadow was everywhere now—biting throats, dragging orcs down, injecting poison. One grunt fell convulsing. Another tried to flee.
I didn't let him.
I hurled a spike of hardened blood through the back of his skull.
Silence followed.
Five grunts lay dead.
Then the ground shook.
The warlord stepped forward.
He laughed.
A deep, guttural sound as he rolled his neck and lifted his massive greataxe.
"Little human kills my dogs," he rumbled. "I kill little human slow."
Pressure crashed down on me like a mountain. My instincts screamed danger. This one wasn't reckless. He was experienced.
We clashed.
His axe slammed into my sword, the impact sending shockwaves up my arms and throwing me back. I barely rolled aside as the axe split the ground where my head had been.
Too strong. Too fast.
I used blood manipulation, ripping streams of blood from the fallen orcs, binding them around his legs.
He tore through them.
The warlord slammed his shoulder into me, breaking my guard and hurling me through a shattered storefront. Pain flared. My vision blurred.
HP dropped dangerously low.
Shadow leapt for his throat.
The warlord caught him midair and smashed him into the wall.
"Pet weak," the warlord sneered.
Something ugly twisted in my chest.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Refusal.
I stood, blood dripping from my chin.
"No," I said quietly. "You're wrong."
Every drop of blood around us responded.
I ripped it all upward—goblin blood, orc blood, my own—and compressed it into a spiraling lance.
"Bloodlust Strike."
I threw it.
The lance punched straight through the warlord's chest, erupting out his back in a shower of gore. He staggered, axe slipping from his hands.
I didn't stop.
I walked forward and drove my sword up under his jaw, into his brain.
The massive body collapsed.
The system chimed.
I stood there, chest heaving, surrounded by corpses.
Shadow limped back to my side.
I rested my hand on his head.
"We won," I whispered.
And deep down, I knew—
This was only the beginning of real battles.
The warlord's corpse hit the ground with a thunderous crash.
For a moment, I just stood there—blood dripping from my blade, chest rising and falling as the last echoes of battle faded. Shadow limped to my side, battered but alive, pressing close to my leg.
I didn't look away from the body.
A higher-level enemy. No help. No retreat.
The system reacted.
A golden light—cold, sharp, and absolute—descended before my eyes.
The words shifted, reforming.
My breath caught.
Another notification followed immediately, heavier than the last.
I felt it settle into me—not like Wrath's burning rage or Envy's sharp hunger, but something far worse.
Certainty.
The unshakable belief that I stood above others.
That I deserved power.
That they were beneath me.
I smiled slowly.
"So it acknowledges reality," I murmured.
More windows appeared.
The numbers flowed into me like a tide.
My body surged with strength as the system recalculated.
Name: Leon
Level: 4 → 5 (EXP 400 / 500)
Race: Human (Blocked)
HP: 150 / 150
MP: 200 / 200
SP: 445
STR: 15+
DEX: 15+
CON: 15+
INT: 20+
Contracts:
• Shadow (Named)
Skills:
• Bloodlust Strike (Wrath)
• Steal (Envy)
• Blood Manipulation
• Pride Authority (Passive — Locked Skills Pending)
A final line appeared beneath the Pride tab.
I looked down at the warlord's corpse again.
Dominance.
Yes… that sounded right.
Shadow let out a low, approving growl.
I turned away from the bodies and began walking back toward the city, confidence settling deep in my bones.
Heroes would rise. Monsters would evolve.
But none of them mattered.
Because now—
I wasn't just surviving this world.
I stood above it.